


Series 4 Setlock Inspired Johnlock: The Ambassador's Husband

by KimberlyAlexis



Series: Series 4 Setlock Inspired Johnlock [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, Post-Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Season/Series 04, Setlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimberlyAlexis/pseuds/KimberlyAlexis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know the drill. This is part of a set of works (each standalone) inspired by the info we get about setlock. This one is based on Harry Gostelow's casting of The Ambassador's Husband. </p><p>You can see the tweet info here: https://twitter.com/ruther2/status/720528004271718400</p>
            </blockquote>





	Series 4 Setlock Inspired Johnlock: The Ambassador's Husband

**Author's Note:**

> ***
> 
> As each work is a standalone you don't need to know anything more than what happened in all 10 episodes of Sherlock to understand this, but in case you're wondering about Mary...I'm just convinced this is going to happen to her so this is why the theme continues here in this one as we also saw in another of the standalone fics
> 
> Finally.... this feels more like a first chapter to me. If people enjoy it I might add more to it. Thanks all!

 

There are very few things that John Watson wouldn’t do to get answers.  To find out exactly what happened and ,just as important, why it happened remains at the forefront of his mind.  

Its been two weeks since that fateful day. Two weeks since Mary disappeared without a note, without an explanation, and without a trace. It’s that last thing which led John Watson and his friend, best friend, to attend the event. An art appreciation evening thrown by some count or duke or some such nonsense. People standing around talking to each other and barely looking at the art. Mostly it seems full of people who want to be seen at the event. It's not a place that John thought he'd ever find himself.

 

“We’ll go as soon as we can,” Sherlock leaned down to whisper into John’s ear. John hummed at a non-committal response. It was all he could muster. His eyes were busy taking in the room, full of lavish designed tapestries, sculptures, and art who was beautiful on their own, but the ornate frames somehow took something away from them. He couldn’t imagine the simple girl who was braiding her hair was meant to be placed in a frame of intricate designs all it’s own. The frame took away the gentle beauty, but moneyed people didn’t really do simple beauty.   “I’m sorry,” Sherlock added a moment later while looking around.  That took John out of his dismay with where they are.

 

He turned to Sherlock, furrowed his brow. “What?”

 

Sherlock turned back towards him. He cut his eyes down as if he was directing the words at John’s shoes.“Just...sorry.”

 

“You didn’t  _ do  _ anything, Sherlock,” John said. There were a lot of things John could blame Sherlock for, but this definitely wasn't one of them.

 

“I...knew.”

 

“You didn’t.”

 

“I did.”

 

“You had a theory. You thought she might leave. But I don’t blame you for telling me that. How could you have even brought that up?”

 

“I thought about it.” Sherlock said. He turned away and looked at the new entrant to the party. “Him.” Sherlock nodded his head forward. 

 

A man in a tuxedo entered the room. This wasn’t enough to set him apart. In fact everyone including Sherlock and John were in the required black-tie suits, but this man definitely had a different air to him. His hair slicked back, the smile curving his lips was mischievous. And John could see why. Poking out of his pocket wasn’t the standard, white pocket square , but instead was a colorful square  full of a mixture of deep reds which stood out among the sea of black and white they stood in. Sherlock seemed to focus on the pocket square too. “Definitely him. The--”

 

“Pocket square,”  John finished his sentence. Sherlock turned to him and smiled. John couldn’t help but smile back. “Shut up. The husband likes stylish accents. I was listening when Mycroft briefed us earlier.”

 

“Were you? I wasn’t.” A waiter moved past them at that moment and Sherlock nimbly took two drinks off. He handed one to John and then took a sip of his. “That’s the ambassador’s husband, of course. The ambassador will still be in the meeting with the others. Discussing what to do about the current leak from his office.”

 

“Do they have any idea who it is?”

 

“None,” Sherlock said. 

 

“Do you?” John asked.

 

“Yes, but it’s not important. Come on, let’s go talk to him.”

 

As if on cue another waiter came by and Sherlock plucked John’s glass from his hand and placed his on the tray. They moved through a sea of people who were shaking hands, chortling laughter, and giving false smiles. John hated this quite a lot. Once they found Mary this would be one of the things he yelled at her about. That is if they found her. He was starting to worry that they’d never find anything out. 

The fact that Mycroft’s people traced Mary’s last call to the Ambassador’s personal line was not only the biggest piece of information they were able to find out, it was the only piece of information. But that was where the information stopped. Mycroft’s people could get no information from the office, and Mycroft could only intervene so far as to get them an invitation to this event and the knowledge that all calls coming and leaving the Ambassador's office were recorded. 

“What are we going to say?”

“I’ll think of something,” Sherlock said and pushed past a lady whose eyes popped in her eyes at him. John knew that look. Sherlock had no idea about the trail of smitten people he left behind. She fluttered her eyes at him and pursed her lips in what John assumed was her most inviting stare. Sherlock didn’t even come close to noticing her pouty lips, her blonde hair hung seductively over one eye. He didn’t notice her curves poured into the dress. John gave her a terse smile.

“I know you’ll think of something, but maybe clue me in,” John said.

“Just take my lead,” Sherlock replied and then they were there, He thrust out a hand towards the man and gave him his most charming smile. “Hi, I’m Sherlock and this is my partner, John Watson.”

John gave a nod. The man shook Sherlock’s hand and then moved on to take John’s. 

“Partner?” The man asked. His voice was pitched with curiosity, but his eyes were warm.

“Yes,” Sherlock answered. “For...how long has it been, love?” Sherlock turned to John with a smile that solidified John’s question of if they were doing what he thought.

“Oh, um, about uh six years save a few in which we were apart for um….”

“Work.” Sherlock filled in the blank while John struggled to move past the emotions that always played out for him once he thought of Sherlock’s time away.

“Yeah,” John found his voice and agreed.

“My work often takes me away from him. It’s not fun.”

“Oh I know what that’s like. Before we were married I was always the one left at home. Not fun at all. Finally got married a few years back so at least I could go with him.”

“Oh?” Sherlock asked feigning interest in a subject he already knew. “What line of work is your husband in?”

The man smiled, you could see the pride all over his straightened stance and raised head. “My husband, Peter Seb, is the ambassador to Libya. I’m his husband. Evan.”

“Evan, lovely to meet you.” John said. “Libya? That must be terribly interesting.”

“Oh yes, oh yes,” Evan said. “We spent a few years with him in America. Not at all interesting for me really. But I really enjoy the new location. Lots of fascinating characters.”

“Oh we know about those, don’t we John?” Sherlock looked over at John. He gave a smile. John found his lip's curling too. He licked his lips. Sherlock had turned on the charm offense and when he did everyone around was struck including John. It wasn’t that John bought into the game, he didn’t. But he always enjoyed seeing Sherlock work. He liked seeing Sherlock change his tactics as a conversation wore on. It was breathtaking to see his genius come to life.

Sherlock cleared his throat bringing John out of his head.

“Oh yes, oh yes,” John said.

“And what is it you do, Sherlock was it?”

“MI-5.” 

John’s eyebrows inched up his head. He knew it was a cover, but the fact that Sherlock was telling some truth that he hadn’t even confirmed to John.

“Oh! I...wow. Most of you all don’t talk about it so openly.” 

“It's mostly desk work so no need for secrets. Besides I’ve had enough hiding in my life,” Sherlock said and glanced to John.

 

“Ahh.”

 

“And they weren’t really too keen to have someone like me in the field you know.”

 

“Like you?” Evan asked. Even John wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

 

“Gay, Evan,” Sherlock said. “Her majesty’s special service is still not as welcoming as I’d like.”

 

Evan gave a warm smile. “I know what that’s like. I’m sorry to hear that. My husband can't be placed in certain countries for fear of backlash. Which is a shame because he's an expert on Russia. But with me in tow.” Evan stopped, gave a wave to his hands. "Bit of a liability." The man looked down, cut his eyes away. John didn't know as much as Sherlock did, but he was to wager a guess then he'd say it was shame Evan was feeling. He immediately felt for him.  John couldn't help but think of his situation now, and hell, his situation two years before. Is that why Mary and Sherlock had left him behind? 

 

“Evan?” A man clapped a hand on Evan’s shoulders. 

 

“Oh here he is. The man himself,” Even said. 

 

“Hi, I’m Peter,” the ambassador said. 

 

“This is John and Sherlock, partnered for five years. Sherlock works for Mi-5.”

 

The ambassador reached out a hand to shake John and Sherlock’s hand. John was immediately struck by the man. Tall, handsome, his hair was a dark auburn though swooped back on his head. He smiled charming and bright then leaned over to give a quick peck on the cheek to Evan. 

 

“I hope they’ve been keeping you company, love.” Peter said.

 

“They have. You know how I hate these things. Always feel out of place. You two know how it is.”

 

“We do,” Sherlock said. “But you’re among friends.”

 

John wasn’t sure what to say at this point, but he knew what the game was at this point.  Evan desperately wanted to be among friends and Sherlock wanted them both to feel that comfort, that immediate connection. Tersely standing by Sherlock’s side and nodding ever so often wasn’t going to do it. 

 

“You are,” John said and he took a step closer to Sherlock, slid an arm around Sherlock’s waist and pulled him close. At first Sherlock tensed up, John worried he’d pull away, but Sherlock soon leaned into the touch. And Evan smiled. It was working.

 

“Are you two fans of any of the artist on display tonight?”

 

“I liked the blonde girl,” John said truthfully. Something about the simple act of braiding her hair spoke to him. She seemed so unguarded.

 

“Oh, the Kellah,” Peter said. “I love that one as well.  The artist is actually a friend. He’s here tonight. Shall we go talk to him?”

 

“We’d love that,” Sherlock said before John could answer.

 

Two hours later they had spoke to the the artist and procured one of his limited edition prints, they’d also made plans to have brunch with Even and Peter in two days and finally they’d secured an invitation to Peter’s office to see the painting he had hung in his waiting area. He’d offered and Sherlock had declined just the right way to ensure that Peter would insist. As they left that night Evan and Peter were both enamored with Sherlock and the tales he told.  The funny thing was so was John.

 

Once they entered the car though, the game seemed to be up. Sherlock slid away from John and pulled out his phone. A true difference from how they’d been all night, close to each other, leaning into each other. An arm around a waist here, a nudge of a nose into hair there. And there was the moment when Sherlock was about to go to the loo when he'd leaned into John's ear to whisper to keep them talking about art. John had shivered. 

 

“You did well,” Sherlock said.

 

“Did I?” John asked. He was truly curious. He wasn’t uncomfortable pretending to be Sherlock’s partner, because in all reality outside of the romance, he felt like he _was_ Sherlock’s partner. 

 

“Mmm,” Sherlock said. He began scrolling down his phone with one hand. John saw many images flash across his screen, none of which stood out except for the painting they saw earlier that night. The blonde girl looking down and braiding her hair. “Kellah sent over the receipt for the print. You actually did like it, didn’t you?”

 

“I did, yeah,” John said. “Something about it….I don’t know art like you though. I just liked it.”

 

“It was a lovely painting,” Sherlock said. He finished scrolling through his phone and pocketed it. Then he did something John hadn’t seen him do in at least a fortnight. He closed his eyes and took a breath. It was a sight John wasn’t sure he wanted to see. It was too reminiscent of the mind palace overdose. John hadn’t quite decided when he’d broach the subject. If Sherlock was using on the plane and was immersed in his mind palace. And to John it seemed just like all those times before then did it mean he was using before? Had John been living with an addict and didn’t even know it? Jesus. He couldn’t stomach the idea that he hadn’t noticed. What kind of partner doesn’t recognize when someone needed help?

 

“It’s so loud I can hardly think.”

 

“What?” John asked. 

 

“You have questions. I would think as my partner that you could just come out and ask me.” Sherlock opened his eyes and gave a smirk to John who couldn’t help himself. He huffed out a laugh.

 

“Your mind palace.”

 

“Ahh,” Sherlock said. “I’ve been wondering if you’d ask.”

 

“I just need to know. I know it’s none of my business.”

 

“Of course it’s your business. You were living with me. You deserve to know the truth.”

 

John gave a quick nod. He was hoping Sherlock felt that way.

 

“Not once,” Sherlock said. 

 

John’s face broke out in a smile, his gleaming. Sherlock  was looking in his eyes and though John could question it, he didn't. It felt like the truth. It felt like Sherlock would never do that to him and he appreciated that.

 

“Thank you,” John said. He turned away to look out the window at the passing streets, the buildings going by in a blur.

 

“So the ambassador and his husband. What did you think of them?”

 

“Seemed like nice blokes. They reminded me of someone though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it,” John said.

 

“Well they’re us,” Sherlock said.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Peter is smart, quick. A bit rough around the edges, but he’s very good at his job.”

 

“And Evan?”

 

“Also smart, kind. He likes to know who people are before he lets them know him.”

 

“Hmm. So …”

 

“You’re Evan. I am Peter.They’re us but you know…”

 

“Gayer?”

 

“I was going to say more sociable. I can’t imagine us ever willingly going to something like that.”

 

“Except we did just that.”

 

“We did that for a case. They were there for fun. Nothing to do with Peter’s job. Hence why it was important for us to go tonight. If we had met with them at something  involving his job then he wouldn’t be as open. We need to remain in his good graces until we can obtain a copy of the conversation whoever in his office had with Mary.”

 

“You don’t think it was him.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“You wouldn’t have given our real names if you suspected him. You’d have us use our cover.”

 

“Our cover?”

 

“You don’t remember our cover names? You of all people.”

 

“When did we ever come up with cover names?” Sherlock asked. He looked truly curious. John couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“My stag night. We were drunk when we came up with them, but you somehow become fixed on the idea that one day we’d need to have cover names and you were transfixed on the idea. We spent the better half of an hour trying out names until you chose them for us.”

 

“What were they?” Sherlock asked. John was taken aback. 

 

“You don’t remember? You really don’t?”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Finite space,” he said. He tapped his head. “Only so much room.”

 

“Yeah but…”

 

“But what?”

 

“Always figured you’d uh….” John stopped himself. It was a ridiculous thought he’d held onto for some time. He always thought Sherlock didn’t delete things involving him. How else would Sherlock know exactly how he took his tea, the name of his football club, the beer John prefers. But he supposes he was wrong about that. Wrong about a lot of things lately. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. John had no desire for Sherlock to read whatever it was John felt, mostly because John wasn’t even sure what he was feeling. Disappointment, sadness, loss. Loss somehow seemed to be the right word. Of course he had been feeling that for some time. Perhaps Sherlock would interpret it as standard John Watson feeling adrift in the world.

 

“We’ll find her.” Sherlock said then.

 

Perfect, John thought. He didn’t see. He gave a sigh, bit his lip. Sherlock didn’t see.

 

“Thanks.” John said quickly, not sure what else to say. Not sure what else to feel.

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Sherlock started. He cleared his throat once, twice. “And before I say this believe that I am working to find her, so this is not a comment on the state of...things.”

 

“Alright.” John said Truly unsure of what Sherlock would say next.

 

“For your safety, I think it would be best, and of course considering the case we’re working on, and the fact that some version of Moriarty is still out there.”

 

“Out with it.”

 

“Come home to Baker,” Sherlock said. He quickly added. “Just while we work on this. It makes the most-”

 

“Yes,” John said. 

 

“Only until we find her. I’m sure we will soon.”

 

John sighed. The complications of finding Mary, the stress of not knowing why she left or if she was even forced to leave, if she was taking care of herself, if she wants them to find her. It all weighed on him. Sherlock asking him to come home was a welcome relief. But once she was back, it might complicate matters considering her feelings on the matter. 

 

“No, I get it,” John said. “And thank you. I appreciate the offer. Besides what if Evan and Peter wants to  pay us a visit.”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said then turned to look out the window, closed his eyes again. Back to the mind palace.

 

At first John stared at the strong profile of his friend, curious at to what he was thinking, wondering just what his next plan was to get them into Peter’s office, but then John turned away lost in thoughts of why Mary did this and where she could be. He didn’t let his mind drift to the baby. To the tests that Mycroft and Sherlock tried to procure only to find out were false. He didn’t let himself think about what it meant that he’d finally tried to chose something stable, normal and had once again chosen  someone who left. 

 

He turned back to Sherlock.  Warring feelings coloring his thought process he cleared his throat to get Sherlock’s attention.

 

“Remember what you said earlier?” Sherlock lifted his eyebrow. John gave a weak smile. “Yeah I know. You said a lot of things earlier. I meant the thing before the party. You said if Mary wasn’t getting in contact then it’s likely she did it to protect me.”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said. He didn’t add more, seemed to be waiting for John to get to the point.

 

“And then Evan said, well--When you left...it was like that. You thought of me as lia--”

 

“That was different.”

 

“I don’t see how it is. I’m not getting at you. I’m just trying to understand. We’re trying to find her, but maybe she doesn’t want to be found. Maybe we are putting her more in danger by trying. And maybe she sees me the same way as you did then.”

 

“So what are you saying?”

 

John scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m saying really. I’m sorry. I’m exhausted, confused still.”

 

“We’ll get you answers soon,” Sherlock said. 

 

“Thank you,” John said. “Thanks.”

 

“It was different because I didn’t know what it did to you.” Sherlock said. The ‘she did’ going unsaid, but John heard it clearly. Then Sherlock continued. “I’d never put you through that again. I assume that's why Peter married Evan.  Girlfriends, Boyfriends aren't really allowed to travel with Ambassador's. So Peter had to leave Evan home. But he saw what it was doing to him and he put a stop to that. I'd never, John. Never again."

 

John tried to say something, words stuck in his throat, but nothing came. So John reached out a hand to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder. He gave a squeeze.  Sherlock didn’t move at first and they rode on in silence until Sherlock reached up a hand to gently lay atop John’s.

  
  
"Our cover names were William and Hamish."

 

Sherlock laughs, but doesn't dislodge John's arms, doesn't move his.

 

"Not very covert."

 

"Nope." John gave a laugh as well. "Should we change them?"

 

"No," Sherlock said. "I'm not giving up the chance to call you Hamish."


End file.
